Still Doll
by Ostensibly Lucidina
Summary: BEWDS Challenge. Young Harry, known to himself as Boy, is trapped in a cuboard, stuck in a partial animagus transformation, and he is found by none other than our beloved Lucius Malfoy. What's going to happen to the Wizarding World now? HP/LV


_**Still Doll  
**_**_By Ostensibly Lucidina_**

**Part 1:  
**_Glass Eyes_

Boy lay in his cupboard under the stairs at number 4 Privet Drive. Ma'am and Sir had gone out with their son, Mr. Dudley, and his friend, , to a semi-local amusement park. After living with them for three years, 4-year-old Boy was left alone. Mrs. Figg, the cat lady who lived down the street from them, had broken her hip a week back, and wouldn't be able to look after him, she'd said. Mr. Dudley had screamed, shouted, kicked, cried, and beaten his parents for three days straight. He didn't want 'The Freak', which was Boy's title, to come with them to the amusement park with them. Ma'am had been hesitant about leaving Boy by himself. It wasn't that she cared about him, or any such nonsense as that, but she was worried about her house and the food in it. But in the end, Mr. Dudley had won. Boy was left behind.

Boy didn't mind being left by himself. He normally was when he was bad, and being punished. He'd be locked in his cupboard all day long, beaten that night, and then left in there for a week or two without foor, and for a few days, without water. But he knew he deserved it. He was 'The Freak'. He did things normal people couldn't do. Or like when he'd been caught outside hissing to a snake. It hadn't been him that had started the conversation...

* * *

**FLASHBACK**

_Boy sighed as the last of the weeds were at last unearthed from the flowerbeds. He was covered in dirt, grime, leaves, blood from the thorns on Ma'am's rosebushes, sweat, and worms. He didn't really care, but he'd have to find a way to clean himself, or bad things would happen when Sir got home..._

**.:Sssstupid human. Ruining my nessst will resssult in ssssome nasssty consssequencccccessss for you:.** _something whispered from nearby. Boy startled, looking around wildly._

**.:Pleasssse don't!! Boy will be good!!!! Promisssssssesssss!:.** _he hissed back, his eyes wide as he began to panic_. **.:Didn't mean to do bad thing!!!!!!!!!!! Pleasssssse!!!!!:.** _Boy put his hands up to shield himself from the inevitable blows. But none came. There was a pause that was silent, chillingly so. Boy waited. But nothing came. Until he felt cool scales winding their way up his bare back and a small tickle in his ear which caused him to giggle. He froze as soon as the sound came out. It was a bad thing to laugh around Sir, Ma'am, and Mr. Dudley. It would only mean pain for him. But again, nothing came._

**.:Young sssspeaker... you know nothing about what and who you are, do you?:.** _the voice hissed, much closer this time. Boy jumped, and tilted his head._

**.:Knowsssss that issss bad. Alwaysssss bad. Ssssir Ma'am Missster Dudley punish bad Boy. Alwaysssss punish. Never be good:.** _Boy responded quietly. He had a feeling that this hissing voice was not the aforementioned people. He was grateful for that. Suddenly, though, a screech of horror and disgust echoed throughout the yard, and the scales quickly unwound themselves from him, and disappeared. Ma'am grabbed Boyroughly by the arm, for once, ignoring his grimey state, screaming about a 'Vernon' dealing with Boy later when he got home. Boy didn't know who 'Vernon' was, but he knew that when Sir got back, things would not be good. He only hoped that the hissing voice would be okay for now..._

* * *

Now, without anything to do, and though he didn't really want to, Boy remembered back two (or was it three?) days ago when IT happened. He had been panicking, because Sir held a knife to his throat while touching him in wierd places, like the one between his legs. He wanted to scream, to make the touches go away, to make it stop. He couldn't stop remembering those horrible hands, that ugly face, twisted into a completely foreign expression. And then, a _pop_ resonated through the living room. In Boy's place was a small half-snake child. His emerald eyes were slitted, his fingernails had grown into long ans dangerously sharp claws, his nose was flat, his hair, which was still there, had grown down to his ankles, his skin, which had been almost tan from the yard work he'd done outside was now ghostly pale and dusted with scales of the same color. And when he had changed, Sir had dropped his knife and stumbled away from Boy in fear, before screaming for him to go back to his cuboard. This had been the evening they had left, and Boy had not left his cuboard since then.

Boy stared up at the darkness of his cuboard as spiders danced across his small stomach. He was tired, and thirsty, ever-hungry, and very light-headed. He couldn't really find the will to move. He just wanted to sleep. But he had to wait until they got home. And, finally, Boy heard the front door open, and waited patiently for Mr. Dudley's whining voice, or Sir's gruff, hog-like voice, or Ma'am's grating, high-pitched one to resound throughout the house. But instead, there were only soft footsteps. A cultured, soothing, yet somehow male voice murmured a few words, and a light flashed through the slitted holes at the top of the door that served as his only window to the outisde of his cuboard. The light was a pale pink one, and it was very pretty. Then, he saw another flash of light, and his cuboard popped open.

Boy stared at the being before him in the dimming light of the sun beyond him. He was dressed in a long, flowing black cloak, made of some very soft material, which was opened to show a shimering silver V-neck shirt, and long green and silver-lined trousers, with shiney black shoes planted firmly on the ground. But the truely awe-inspiring sight was the male's face and hair. His hair was long, and flowing, like silk-spun threads of pure light from a winter's pale sunrise. And his face was chiseled with high cheek-bones, a firmly set mouth set in smooth, marble-like skin that had only lightly been kissed with a tan. His eyes were swirling mercury silver, filled with some nameless emotion. Boy had no words for the utter perfection that was Lord Lucius Malfoy.

Eyes widening, Lucius stared down into an old coat cuboard with horror and somewhat anger. How dare those filthy muggles do such a thing to a child, and a wizarding child at that. Despite the fact that the boy was so snake-like, he was still a child, and the scale-covered scar on his forehead told him that this the savior of the wizarding world. He looked no older than two, he was so small and undernorished. But Lucius knew that he was the same age as his own son, Draco. Those idiotic _muggles_ would **_pay_**.

* * *


End file.
